


sapio

by MelanijaParadis



Series: The Amber Apologues [2]
Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Scrabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanijaParadis/pseuds/MelanijaParadis
Summary: After a long day, Macy engages Harry in a late-night alcohol-infused game of dirty Scrabble.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood & Macy Vaughn, Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Series: The Amber Apologues [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062569
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	sapio

“Is _that_ all you’ve got?” Macy frowned at the near-empty Scrabble board, wooden tiles spelling out short words such as “arm,” “light,” and “magic,” as she took a fourth sip of Pinot Grigio, its sweet nectarine and pear notes dancing upon her tongue. _God, I needed this…_

It was meant to be a casual night in, after the earlier ensuing chaos, as she surveyed the rest of the attic, myriad pearly beeswax candles aglow in every single moonlit crevice. A time to unwind, to truly… _relax._ And apparently, Harry’s brain was having none of it.

“I-I’m just trying to use my vowels,” answered he, plunking down yet another altogether _bland_ , altogether _vanilla_ word. _Flower._

_Oh for crissakes._

Spotting a vial of familiar frothy potion, Macy summoned it forth into her delicate clutches. “Let’s have a do-over—” and before Harry could respond, she dumped the entire board free of tiles as they piled into a mound between them.

“Macy, what on _earth_ are you—”

“ _Watch.”_ Pouring no more than two drops and recorking, the Scrabble tiles multiplied. Now, there were twice the number, enough for creative word choices…whatever they might be. “New rule: a handful of tiles, different words, the dirtier the better.”

 _Oh. Oh my._ Harry felt a familiar blush upon his cheeks as he sucked his breath in sharply. Reaching a hand to stroke her visage, he felt a stirring from within—a remnant of the past several evenings spent in wanton agony, as he reflected on the figure he had initially sought to deny himself, fearing it would be but the demise of the sisterhood—the Charmed Ones. _But he knew now Macy was fierce, and brave besides._ And he understood, deep down, that he was meant for her, just as she was, for him—

“I’ll go first,” Macy glanced at her handful of tiles. _No holds barred. Do…no, too short. Dam…ugh no. Lidded…nope._ Then her eyes lit up. She placed the proffered tiles upon the board. “Dildo. Your turn, Greenwood—”

Harry stared, then took a deep sip of his own fermented grapes, laying the stemmed glassware behind him before proceeding. “I do hope that’s not indicative of any deficiency on my part…”

“Of course not—remember, dirty Scrabble?”

“Oh, er, _right then—”_ he collected his pile, thumbing through as Macy’s own brain swam with images, _fantasies,_ really _,_ of exactly _where_ she wanted that finger of his—

“Tumescence.”

Macy smiled. “Nice.” Glancing through her letters, she placed one down and picked more up. _Consonants or vowels? Vowels or consonants? And how the hell do I use the letter “x”?_

Several moments of letter-switching, letter-picking later, a steady gleam in her eye told Harry that the woman before him—this melanin, delightfully _witchly_ angel _—_ had made her decision. “Sapiosexual,” she announced triumphantly, the ‘S’ extending at a perpendicular angle from ‘tumescence.’

“Finding intelligence intensely attractive or arousing… _impeccable word choice, Dr. Vaughn_ ,” he murmured low, as her toes curled ever-so-slightly.

“Y-your turn, Harry.” _Grab ahold of yourself, Vaughn!_ She reached for her glass once more, taking a longer sip this time around, realizing Harry’s gaze had migrated downward, from her lush, dusk rose lips, to her… _oh…wow…_

Searching among his letters and trading for more, he had a mind toward using the most beautiful words he could think of, _and_ doing so expediently, given where his filthy imagination was wandering at the moment. _Her plump lips, kissing a path down alabaster skin…her hand, intertwined with his, as he—_

Macy waved her hand in his face. “Harry? Earth to Harry? It’s your turn—”

“Oh— _right—”_ And he revealed his hand. _Or rather, his tiles._ “Voluptuous.”

She subconsciously drew her thighs closer together. _Oh jeez…_

This was going to be harder than she thought. _Pun intended._

A quarter of an hour later, they had somehow used up just over half of the doubled Scrabble tiles.

 _Impassioned._ Harry’s word soon followed, as Macy massaged her forehead. Whether it was the alcohol, sleep deprivation, or earlier goings-on, everything seemed to hit her at once, and he noticed almost immediately. “Mace, we can stop if you would like—”

“NO!” She cleared her throat. “I mean… _no.” Please,_ her eyes beseeched his. _We’ve gone through so much, please—just—give me—give_ us— _this moment._

And he understood. “Very well. _If_ you insist—” as he laid his next word onto the board. _Lascivious._

Which was soon followed by Macy’s. _Lecherous._ She glanced at her own dwindling pile. There wasn’t much more she could do— _she needed the next words to count..._

 _Salacious._ Harry followed his move with a raise of his eyebrow, causing Macy to swallow, her throat suddenly dry.

 _Keep going…_ she seemed to say, as she artfully arranged her own tiles, vertically so. The word _‘seductive,’_ as Harry felt his trousers tighten.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady himself, he put his next word together. _Erogenous._ With some wistful regret, he realized he’d used the last of his lengthy words. _Now onto shorter syllabic arrangements_ … _was it his imagination, or were they closing the distance between them?_

Her hand atop his, stroking his skin’s surface in circles as he took another breath, sharper this time, as she noticed in the corner of her eye, a certain… _prominence_ …down below. _Imagining it elsewhere…_

_Coitus._

“I’m out of words. I wish…” Macy spoke softly now, bridging the remaining gap as she nuzzled into the most sensitive part of his neck, while his hand, wound close around her shoulder, traveled southward a few inches to her semi-lunar orbs. “I-I want—”

“ _Tell me, Macy,”_ he murmured in her ear. “ _Tell me what you want—”_ as he thumbed one nub, then the other, mouthing their outline through bloused fabric as her thighs widened, in instinctual want, of _him._

“ _You—”_ she gasped breathlessly. “I—want— _you,”_ shrieking in surprise the next moment as Harry deftly pulled her astride him, his stubble tickling her chin, before recovering herself as she made work of his shirt, ripping off button after acrylic button before tossing it across the room, himself planting kiss upon kiss, shifting the beauteous form atop him, to divest her blouse, as she continued to _ride_ him—

Their undergarments were the next to go. And mere moments later, Macy had _him_ in those soft, lithe fingers of hers, her plump lips rounded, as she took him in, inch by glorious inch—

“ _Fuck—”_ he groaned loudly, craving release as the woman of his dreams—Macy— _his_ Macy—continued her ministrations. “M-Macy, I’m not going to last long if—”

And she released her _langulaire_ hold upon him, just as his finger made its way into _her. Entrancing. Captivating,_ she was, her mahogany curls tossed askew, head thrown back as he moved within her, faster, accelerating, and—finally—with a scream—and _tightness—_ and _wetness—_ she came, burying her visage in his shoulder.

“ _NOW.”_ A statement. An order. Or _both,_ muffled through mounds of luscious corkscrew curls.

“As you wish,” he whispered, aligning _himself_ with her entrance, plunging deeply as they gasped in unison at the wickedly delicious sensation.

“ _Fuck me—”_ her murmur caused him further arousal, as it was extraordinarily (and regrettably) rare she talked such delightfully spicy, salacious, foul-mouthed language, for they were _always_ in the presence of others, _always_ interrupted, _always—_ but now?

“ _With pleasure.”_

She descended swiftly upon his muscular form just as his hips jutted upward; moaning loudly, she threw her head back once more, before burying her visage in the crook of his neck. Sensing an inward build, a cataclysmic trembling, threatening to break loose—“Harry…oh… _fuck…Harry_ …I… _I can’t…_ ”

“ _Don’t,”_ he said simply, gripping her hips firmly. “ _Look at me.”_

“W-what?”

“ _I want to see you when—”_

Nodding, she drew her forehead until it was mere millimeters from his, their eyes absorbing each other’s intense, utterly _insatiable_ gaze. Innermost physicality united in carnal consummation, their movements accelerated, their bodies— _souls—_ melding, fusing, her skin _becoming_ of his, his effervescent glow _transmuted_ to her own, as Harry vaguely detected parchment and pencils levitating of their own accord... _oh, my darling, darling Macy..._

Soon, they found blissful, filthily exquisite release together—as screams intermingled with grunts and headlong gasps that echoed across the ceiling rafters.

After several seconds, Harry kissed her forehead, then her sumptuous lips. “I love you, Macy Vaughn.”

“Oh, Harry,” her expressive eyes met his own. “I love you too.”


End file.
